I am human and I am here

My world came crashing down a little over a month ago. It was the prolific implosion of pain and hurt and sad and angry and everything in between and had, no has literally brought me to my knees. Painfully so, to the point, the bruises seems as though they will be there forever. Inwardly they will be. Outward, I do a pretty good job of hiding 80% of the pain. Until there is wine of course. Then it’s either sad or angry and often both, at the same time and with a ferocity that makes me not recognize myself. But the wine helps me sleep when the medicine and the melatonin fail. And I am sadder and scarier without a few good hours of rest.

I am not ready to talk about why. I may never be. I spend enough time in the apparently “shameful” therapist’s office now, that I know it doesn’t need to be put here. This month I’ve learned better than I ever thought I could, that social media is a fucking nightmare and people, often under the guise of Christianity, are evil and terrible and mean. That in one moment they can quote Psalms and in the next to make fun of how someone looks, or that they seek help or insult that they perhaps are the actual victim in this scenario.

I have learned that people reach out to you often not because they want to take care of you or love you but because they are dying to know the story. I’ve never cringed so much at the sight of the words “I am praying for you”, in my entire life. The pity looks are almost worse though. “You poor thing”, their eyes read. As if I am some starving African child. Don’t pity me. Treat me as you always have. The pity face makes me feel inhuman.

But I have also learned that people will drive hundreds of miles to keep you from the doors of destruction. That they will bring you groceries and text you through the middle of the night and that they won’t judge you or feel hurt that you’ve become so disconnected that you don’t know a single thing that is going on in their lives. Those people who truly know the meaning of love and community will rush to your rescue when the insanity makes you fear for your safety. They will call the police when the words are too hard to force out of my own mouth, those words will come out of theirs. They will take record of the cruelty and deception. They will fiercely fight for you when you don’t have the strength. They will make sure that you have what you need to go on when you’re not sure you can. I have learned that despite the demons in my head, people care about me and have always, I was just so blind in self-depreciation, that I couldn’t see that there was love all around me. For the most part, that makes the hurt, hurt a little less.

My baby turned 5 this last month. My nephew born. I have been married now 17 years; I have spent nearly half my life with the same person. I enrolled in the doula certification course; of course I can’t even get through the manual but it’s self-paced, thank God. In the past month, I’ve found my voice, bravery and realized my tenacity is fierce. I’ve decided my soul is starving and this horrible, implosion is the kick in the ass I needed to be brave again. I walked into a church for the first time in many years, my heart fully open to Him. I walked in that same church fully prepared to “say it to your face”. I did not sneak in a back door. I did not make a scene. I made it clear that I am human and I am here.

I’d thought long and hard about deleting this blog. Knowing that the catalyst to this insanity has been reading it for close to a year I believe. That they used my words to create this monster that I am not. They used my anxiety and depression and the desire to share and heal other people as a tool to help build this lie that they had a right to hurt people; that they deserved something. No one deserves anything. Especially when you’ve attempted to earn it with lies, deceit, and cruelty. I know you are there, I know you are reading. And I am here, I am human and I am not hiding anymore.

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

Life, life, life

The fall always seems to fly by in my world. If I am shooting, my weekends are filled with football, sometimes baseball, likely some lacrosse and often with mini sessions and holiday photos. I shoot into November most years. I don’t get a lot of “days off” anyway but the fall means almost none and this year’s been the busiest ever. We’d made the decision to put the biggest boys in both baseball and football this fall. Felt like it would be easier to swing being that one boy plays for school and that meant no weekend games.

We were utterly wrong and the season handed us our asses not so gently. Between weekday practices and weekend games, I’d easily spent 20 hours a weekend in my car and I think half our paycheck went directly to Wawa. I was done, I am done. And it’s not even halfway through November. My house is in a state of disarray. I can’t get caught up on laundry and my hopes of another handmade holiday are all but dashed. I dislike the holiday season and Target vomiting Christmas at me already, makes me want to cry. I’m not ready; I am not ready Target.

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Between weekday practices and weekend games, I’d easily spent 20 hours a weekend in my car and I think half our paycheck went directly to Wawa. I was done, I am done. And it’s not even halfway through November. My house is in a state of disarray. I can’t get caught up on laundry and my hopes of another handmade holiday are all but dashed. I dislike the holiday season and Target vomiting Christmas at me already, makes me want to cry. I’m not ready; I am not ready Target. I’m barely through Halloween and damn it, I’d like some Turkey before I am inundated with the hustle and rush of the holiday.

The minority I realize but the joys of Christmas isn’t there for me. It just seems to miss the mark. Oh, the joys of the half empty brain.

Today is election day. It’s been a tumultuous election at best and I’ve done well to stay out of most of the conversation. I get heated up about things that are hot-button items but I know in my logical head that no amount of Facebook debating will likely change another person mind. I know, despite reading both sides on a lot of these items, my opinion rarely wavers.  I keep wishing the election is over. That we can go back to the flat, fakeness of politic-free Facebook but I fear the outcome, either him or her, will start some horrible war and with is we’ll all just lose our minds and self-implode. It’s unfortunate how ugly these things make people. But I wonder if maybe some of us are just really good at hiding our ugly. Makes my heart heavy.

My heart is very heavy.

I don’t know what to do with this blog. All the blogs no of days are top tens and recipes, crafts. I am at the junction of “what is the point” and “waste of space”. That doubt monster tells me I’m not really writing anything and I don’t know how to migrate to the world of monetizing. I am so stuck in the “perfect” that I can’t even start. I can’t get out of  this circle of trying to figure out who I am. It’s like I am a dog chasing his tail. I’m just in a constant state of dizzy and going nowhere. I don’t even know why I wrote that.

Life, life life. It’s all just life.

 

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

What are the chances?

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There aren’t many things as scary as putting your child onto a plane to go to a foreign country with people you don’t really know. Devlynn and I had planned for her mission trip this summer for what felt like years. Passports and shots and packing, we had the support of so many people who it was just a seamless adventure getting her up and ready to go. She was the first to raise all her money, I had her passport processed right away and shots were done in June. Even so, all the preparing doesn’t prepare you for what it feels like to let her go and let her go I did.

Walking her into the building, I felt my stomach flipping. Nervous and excited I worried her stomach ache was more than just nerves. I worried she didn’t have enough money or enough clothes; that she’d lose her phone or her wallet or her way. In my head she looks 4 and in my heart I was putting my brand new baby on a plane that was going far away.

They arrived safely and everything seemed great until the news started reporting about a tropical storm. And then, when that tropical storm turned into a hurricane I thought I would vomit right then and there.

What are the chances of a rare hurricane hitting Belize the week my daughter is there?

My faith isn’t the strongest. This isn’t news.  I struggle with the idea that God is silent to many, myself included, when you expect an audible sound. I often forget that God’s people are not God and use their mistakes to punish him and I struggled, profoundly, putting my daughter on a plane with people that I didn’t 100% trust anymore, because of history and because of doubt. So knowing my daughter, my most precious thing was in a storm with all my doubt was the worst case scenario.

It was a long night of checking the news. Smart phones are the devil sometimes. And I knew the storm wouldn’t go directly over where they were. I search Instagram for damage photos and found that the area the team was in was mostly just flooded. And I cried, a lot. Because I was scared. And I wanted to call her but I couldn’t and I knew, I just had to let it go.

Nothing like a hurricane to test your faith.

She was fine. Her team was fine and her Belize story turned into one of clean up and help. I felt glad they were there to help clear the damage. I am sure the people who lived there needed the help. She survived, with the best mission story ever and I survived too. I admit though, I couldn’t get her off that bus fast enough.

And the trip was good. She got to see that despite having less sometimes (or having to wait, yay large family) she really is very rich. And she made friends. Lots of new friends for which I am grateful. She has struggled since her two best friends moved away. But now, it seems as if her dance card is full. And she’s attending youth group again. So maybe, she’ll grow up with a group of people who love her. People beside me and her dad of course.

She and I weathered a pretty important storm and came out richer I’d say. What are the chances of that?

Summer is almost over. What was supposed to be a summer of leisure turned into a whirlwind for sure. I am both sad and happy it’s coming to a close and I am both dreading and looking forward to the start of junior, 7th and 4th grade. Oh and preschool! With a new teacher! One I’ve not met yet but am so excited to add to our education family. I will miss our Miss Joy and Miss Sue though.

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.